The Old Book on the Shelf
by shopgirl1997
Summary: Reddington has always been there for her, now, it is her turn to be take care of him.


_A/N: Yet another story in which Reddington tells Elizabeth he is her father, sorry, they just keep popping into my head._

 _Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

"Reddington, what is it?" Elizabeth Keen says, holding the phone to her ear. They had just closed a case he had brought them, it was very rare for him to call about another case so soon after unless it was urgent. It was even rarer for him to call her at such a late hour when he knew she would be sleeping. The deep, kind voice that greeted her was not unwelcome, but unexpected all the same. Dembe rattled off an address, one of Red's many safe houses, telling her she should get there as soon as she could.

When she first arrived at the house, she doubted it could be one of Raymond's properties; it was a tiny house- with at most two little bedrooms- set in a quiet neighborhood outside of town where the houses were spread further apart. It looked so average, not large or old or sporting any unusual decorations that his usual locations possess. His car was parked on the side of the road in front of the tiny place, and it stuck out like a sore thumb against all the older, dull cars around it. She only hesitated a second before getting out of her car and into the dark rainy night to reach the plain white door, knocking three times. Dembe answered it shortly after, wearing dark jeans, black boots, and a hooded coat, car keys in his hand.

He began speaking, his accent, as always, capturing her attention, "Raymond has fallen ill, his wound might be getting infected. I need to go get him antibiotics, but I cannot leave him alone." Elizabeth had never seen the man ill before, not even a sneeze. "He is sleeping now, but you need to wake him every hour to take his temperature. If it gets any higher than 105 degrees, contact the number I have written on the log. When you take his temperature, also make him drink some water. Other than that, just let him rest."

Lizzy nodded her head, feeling a bubble of concern for the Concierge of Crime. Dembe apologized for waking her, but she was the only other person Red trusted besides Dembe and himself, before closing the door behind him. She removed her wet coat, as well as her shoes, before walking through the small gathering room and the kitchen, passing by an empty bedroom that was Dembe's and a bathroom, before reaching Reddington's room. The light on his bedside table was dimmed, his window cracked open slightly to let in the fresh, rainy air. A comfortable looking chair was placed facing the bed, a notebook, thermometer, and a glass of water set next to the lamp. She finally laid her eyes on the figure in the bed and her worry for him rose immensely. The covers were drawn up to his chin, with more blankets piled on top of the already plush comforter, and he was still shivering. His skin was as pale as his white sheets, sweat dewing on his face, making it look shiny. Dark half circles contrasted violently against his white complexion. He was in a very deep state of sleep, but he looked far from well rested.

Slowly, Lizzy walked further into the room, taking in a small TV set atop an old dresser, and even older bookshelves lining the rest of the wall opposite from the bed. The man did love to read, and his vast collection in books showed for that. She reached out and grabbed a worn, clearly loved book, and giggled when she recognized the title as a romance novel.

Elizabeth paused her reading often to feel the temperature of his skin or to wipe the perspiration off his forehead and cheeks. He was obviously exhausted, and because of that, she couldn't bear to wake him up every hour. If it felt like he was getting warmer, she would wake him then, she told herself. She was in the process of getting back into her book when Red turned, then gasped in pain and flopped back to his original position.

"Lizzy?" He spoke, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep, "what are you doing here?"

Elizabeth helped him lead forward so she could fluff his pillows, handing him the glass of water after he settled back down. "Dembe called and asked me to watch over you while he got you medication. How are you feeling?"

He closed his eyes when he felt the back of her hand on his face. It wasn't often they touched, and even less often she would initiate the contact. Even though she was only doing it because he was sick, it filled him with joy, something he rarely truly felt. "A little bit better, I think."

Dembe entered the house then, and walked into the room carrying a pill bottle in one hand, and a bag of food and bandages in another. "How is he?"

"Better. I think his fever broke; I didn't want to wake him so I went by how warm he felt," Lizzy replied as she stood up and took the items from the dark man's hands. "You look tired, Dembe. You can go rest, I will take care of him." Dembe looked between Elizabeth and Raymond before nodding his head lightly and walking back out of the room.

Reddington sighed, "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"I know, I wanted to. I'll change your bandage and then you can eat, take your medication, and rest some more." He began to protest, but quickly gave up once he realized she was more stubborn than him this time around. His eyes studied her face as she helped him out of his shirt; she breathed in sharply when she saw the burns on his back, but she said nothing. Her face quickly masked the shock with a neutral, blank expression as she removed the old bandage. Cleaning the incision hurt, and she murmured her apologies at each of his grimaces, grunts, and sighs. They both released a sigh of release once the clean bandage was in place and his shirt was put back on.

Her questions started when he was about half way through his soup. "You have burn scars… from the night of the fire at my house?"

"Yes. I got them by saving you."

"I thought my father saved me from the fire," Elizabeth said, a hint of confusion in her face. Her deep blue eyes burned into his, reminding him of how her mother would stare him down when she wanted information. She looked a lot like her mother, she also got her kind heart and the ability to squeeze out of seemingly any situation just at the last minute. She also possessed that same ability to get him wrapped around her finger as Katarina did.

"Yes," Red nodded, eyeing the book resting on the arm of the chair. Lizzy must have been reading it. "That was your mother's favorite book, and it quickly became one of mine."

Elizabeth smiled and picked up the book, studying it with content, yet curious eyes. She was happy she was finally holding something her mother had held dear, it was a connection she finally had to her mother. She met his eyes again after a few silent minutes have passed, "I thought you said you weren't my father."

Raymond heaved a deep sigh, wincing when it pained his chest. "Biologically, I am. But even as a child you didn't know I was your father. Katarina's husband was your father."

"You had an affair."

"I did. We were lucky you looked more like your mother than I, but you sure had my personality," Reddington chuckled, his eyes getting a faraway look as he was absorbed in his memory.

"Did her husband start the fire, because he found out?" She asked, her voice soft.

Red shook his head, "No, he just pissed off the wrong people."

Elizabeth watched as the man visibly relaxed, either because the medication was kicking in or because he finally let out a secret he had kept buried for over twenty years. Maybe it was a little bit of both. "Thank you," she murmured, taking note of his heavy eyes that he was fighting.

Reddington eyed her curiously, "What for?"

Lizzy smiled and laid back in the chair, "For saving me… over and over again, for being there when I need you, and for telling me the truth." A faint smile graced his face, and it remained there even after he fell asleep. She picked up the old book again and flipped the page. She noticed writing on the side of the page, written in neat, slanted, curved writing.

 _She does not know you as her father yet, but one day she will. You'll walk into her life on day and turn it upside down, just like what you did with me. You will be there when she needs you, protect her, and you with both drive the other crazy. Don't give up, my love._

 _~Katarina_

 _A/N: Thank you for reading. Reviews and story suggestions are always welcome!_


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